


La Petite Mort

by BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Protective Slade Wilson, Sort-of good Slade Wilson, TARANTULA CAN GO FUCK HERSELF, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds/pseuds/BluebellDestroyerOfWorlds
Summary: Set directly after issue #100 of the 1996 Nightwing Comics. Dick returns back to Bludhaven in a state of turmoil and can't think of anyone he wants to involve, until an anonymous text message appears on his phone.-.-“Stop.”The word left Dick’s lips before his brain really had time to process it. He thought it was instinct or maybe his subconscious reminding him about all the alarm bells that this scenario should entice. But he regretted it. That one word humanised him and he knew that that was maybe the one thing that would stop the man before him.-.-
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 35
Kudos: 286





	La Petite Mort

**Author's Note:**

> I remember starting this in reaction to my first time reading about the Tarantula bullshit. Which, honestly, to this day still really upsets me. I'm pretty sure it was actually one of the first Slade/Dick fic I ever started, so that's fun. Actually it's precisely the second, I think.
> 
> Anyway, I found it while poking around my laptop and decided to give it a sort-of happy ending, because I've turned into a softie and Dick needs all the love he can get.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

“Stop.”

  
  


The word left Dick’s lips before his brain really had time to process it. He thought it was instinct or maybe his subconscious reminding him about all the alarm bells that this scenario should entice. But he regretted it. That one word humanised him and he knew that that was maybe the one thing that would stop the man before him.

  
  


And it did. The weight pressing him to the wall became static, the hands on his torso and thigh stilled and a ragged breath against his ear was all that was left of the movement that had been so present only moments ago.

  
  


_Fuck._

  
  


“No! I didn’t mean-” Dick started, fumbling with words that could explain his actions. It was so easy to become frantic at that sudden lack of hunger. So easy to lose himself to desperation. “Slade… Please.” he tried to pull the man back into action, but his hands were held in strong grasp, his wrists softly, but immovably, pressed to the wall above him.

  
  


“Do you want this?”

  
  


It was the calm, quiet tone of the question that startled him. He had expected an angry, or even hurt response. Not this. Somehow the lack of emotion was even worse and he shook slightly, felt his legs start to give way, as though even his body couldn’t support the weight of it all. “Yes, of course...” he said, then shook his head. “I mean… I-I-” A sob broke free of his lips, unbidden. “I don’t know.” he replied quietly and the grasp on his wrists loosened, letting him slide to the floor unaided. His body curled in on itself, folding like a puppet with its strings cut, a burning sensation building in his tight chest.

  
  


He was stunned when Slade’s body soon followed his. Strong arms pulled him onto the man’s lap, hands stroked his head and rubbed the small of his back soothingly, leveled breathing calmed his own, as he clung to the mercenary like a lifeline.

  
  


Once he had become still in the man’s arms, Slade began to speak in a deep, gravelly voice that reminded him so much of someone else. _It hurt._ “I don’t know what shit you think you need to be punished for, or whatever you’re trying to accomplish with this, but I won’t force you. I won’t hurt you. And I definitely won’t help you use me to destroy yourself.” A chaste kiss was pressed onto his forehead and Slade whispered. “I don’t know why you wanted me here, but I won’t be the one to break you, kid. Not like this.”

  
  


Dick looked up into the icy blue eye that seemed to glow strangely warm in the darkness. He nodded.

  
  


He didn’t know why he’d wanted Slade here either. He’d arrived at his apartment in Bludhaven in a state of devastation. The only thing he had been certain of was that spending the night alone would be his downfall. His contact list hadn’t helped. They were all too caring, too interested in his well-being, too prone to ask difficult questions. Too involved. And it was then that he’d received the anonymous text.

  
  


**Evening, kid.**

**I’m in Bludhaven. Don’t worry, nothing too illegal.**

**Don’t try to get in my way.**

**I’d rather I didn’t have to kill you.**

  
  


**SW**

  
  


It was almost embarrassing how fast he’d responded and then, barely half an hour later, he’d heard the sound of his bathroom window sliding open.

  
  


Dick stared at the man cradling him. The man who had threatened to kill him since his first few years as Robin and had made quite a few attempts to do just that later on. This man who had terrorized his childhood and the villain who had shown him that even killers have some kind of misguided moral code. He watched the man who would have most likely ripped his clothes off and taken him then and there, if he hadn’t voiced his uncertainty.

  
  


It wasn’t instinct now, it wasn’t adrenaline, it wasn’t anything he could explain away as a physical, or psychological defect, that caused his body to surge forward and his lips to crash against Slade’s. It was short-lived, as he was, again, gently, but firmly, manhandled back. “Kid. I already-”

  
  


“I don’t want to be broken.” Dick stopped him, a slight edge to his voice now, even while a quiver betrayed him, and he glared defiantly at Slade. “So, help me. Help me forget, just for a while. I fucking don’t know… Just comfort me.” _It wasn’t a plea. He definitely wasn’t begging._ The man didn’t speak, just watched him and Dick thought for a moment that this was it, he’d say no, he’d leave. He didn’t blame him. _No one wanted to stick their dick in craz-_ A less than elegant sound was pressed out of him as he was bodily hauled into the air, his thighs snapping shut around Slade’s still-armoured waist.

  
  


“Okay.” was the only word spoken.

  
  


Almost tenderly, he was placed on his own sheets once they entered the messy bedroom. Anticipation made him shiver and his face grew hot as he watched Slade look around the room. Unwashed piles of laundry, old bowls of cereal from god only knew what decade… _He really should have tidied up._ A chuckle, followed by a soft kiss on his forehead made him realize that his thoughts were no longer his own. “It’s alright. I’ve broken into your apartment more than enough times to know your organizational skills aren’t ideal. That hasn’t scared me off yet.”

  
  


“Is telling me you’ve broken into my apartment supposed to be reassuring? I would be creeped out, but Bruce alr-” he stopped and blushed. He really didn’t want to talk about Bruce right now. The annoyed huff the name got from above him was probably the best form of agreement he’d get to that thought. _Don’t mix work with pleasure. Got it._ Instead his head tilted upwards to watch Slade pull off his suit, leaving only the thin layer of spandex clothing underneath. He was… Well-built was an understatement. The sight only made the heat in his cheeks build to a whole body experience. Then Slade’s weight was suddenly on top of him and he let out a breathy whine, as lips were pressed onto his own again. His fingers tangled with the short silver hair, his legs around the now nearly bare hips.

  
  


Efficiency was key in every aspect of Slade’s life. Every way his lips moved was designed to coax a moan or whine from his willing victim. They sucked, pressed and bit down on the soft and puffy mounds of flesh. Parting his mouth under duress, Dick allowed their tongues to entwine and he felt calloused, but gentle-seeming, hands slide up his shirt. The thin sheet of fabric was pulled upwards and off, soon fingernails were dragging lightly down his torso. The pressure and pull of the strong fingers and slight burning pain that followed each movement made him groan. His own nails dug into that large, muscular back, left unprotected under his palms. A peeved grunt and shift of muscles under skin almost made him laugh, before a buck of the man’s hips and the grind of something hard against his own crotch brought him back to reality.

  
  


The air had nearly been entirely pressed from his lungs by te time Slade mercifully ended the kiss. He was left stunned by the intensity of it all for a mere second before his survival skills kicked in and he began to gulp air frantically back inside of him. Presently, it was all lost again in a cry. Rough lips had connected with his neck, fingers tugged at his hard nipples

  
  


Slade sucked on his neck, leaving angry red marks and dragging a desperate whine from Dick as his own hips shot upwards, urgently seeking some form of contact. Contact which was briefly given, as Slade skimmed his fingers over the tented front of his boxers. His hand rested on Dick’s stomach and pushed the vigilante down, a teasing grin flashing in front of the former Robin’s pink face.

  
  


“Bastard...” Dick accused, half-heartedly, before another needy keen escaped him.

  
  


“Patience, pretty bird.” Slade purred into his reluctant prisoner’s flesh. “I’ll give you some release. In time...” he paused and gave him a positively evil smirk, that, despite himself, went straight to Dick’s already overworked cock. “Although, it could be quite a long time. We do have all night.”

  
  


As it turned out, he’d meant those words completely. Dick was teased and manhandled so much that by the time Slade finally did enter him, he nearly came just from the sharp thrust against his prostate. After that he didn’t really last very long, not that Slade seemed to mind. He just kept on going, kept drawing orgasm after orgasm out of the man, pushing his flexible body into so many positions, that he eventually lost count. All the while, Slade whispered filth and praise into his ears until he could barely remember a life beyond this room, this bed, this man on top of him.

  
  


Dick would have liked to say that they both looked a wreck at the end of it all, but Slade barely appeared to have broken a sweat. He rolled his eyes at him, muttering “Showoff...” and getting an amused huff and short, nipping kiss in return, which mollified him. Slade grinned and rolled off him, heading towards the bathroom. For the moment, the vigilante just lay there, feeling messy and sticky, but good. Really, deliciously good. A warm, post-coital glow filled the room and he felt a sort of nice ache start to settle into his muscles. He closed his eyes and smiled.

  
  


“ _That’s good, that’s right… We’re free now… Alive, querido… Yes… You and me… He can’t hurt us anymore, baby, it’s over. It’s all over… What is there to be afraid of now?…”_

  
  


Dick’s eyes shot open again and a sharp pain, worse than any ache he had been feeling, shot through him. His breath quickened and he flinched as the bathroom door clicked open again, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly. _No, this wasn’t that motel, this wasn’t Gotham. She wasn’t here… No. What if- He couldn’t go through this again. No. He didn’t want- It was all his faul-_

  
  


“You okay, pretty bird?” For once the nickname came as something welcome. Something that grounded him. It was Slade who stood over him, eye narrowed a little, watching cautiously as he sat up. Slade was… _Not predictable, just… Safe?_ For now, at least.

  
  


“Yeah, I’m good.” he said, starting to stand, a shifty grin on his handsome face. “I should probably get cleaned off.” A strong hand stopped him, pushed him back down and he almost froze up, but it wasn’t forceful, instead leaning towards inviting, guiding. Warm, wet pressure wiped along his neck and chest and he looked down. A blue flannel, obviously soaked in warm water, was in Slade’s hands. He stiffened. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when in regards to after-glow Slade, but it wasn’t this. Some of the fear died away in the face of how ridiculous this situation was.

  
  


“Let me, kid, I’d wait to stand up for a bit, if I were you.” The mercenary grinned and he returned it, relaxing.

  
  


“Like you’d know? I can’t imagine you’ve had a cock up your ass too many times, Slade...” Dick murmured, lying back down.

  
  


“You’d be surprised…” The mercenary replied and Dick pulled a face. Well, there was an insinuation his mind might find its way back to when he was alone again… _Maybe next time he could ask… No. This had to be the only time._

  
  


Slade slowly cleaned away the sweat and cum still clinging to his skin and soon Dick closed his eyes again, letting the man take care of him. It wasn’t sexual the way Slade was touching him, it wasn’t just clinical, either, more tender than anything he’d really had since Babs- Another pain of a different sort grew in his chest, but then, like he knew he needed it, strong hands were on his face and lips brushed against his own. It wasn’t like the kisses Slade had given him earlier. It was so… He wasn’t sure, but his hands moved up Slade’s bare arms and into his hair again, like all this was natural. It could have been. _Maybe._ In some other dimension.

  
  


They parted again and Dick opened his eyes. Slade’s expression was mostly nebulous, just blankly staring, but he looked happy? Dick wasn’t sure he had the energy to try and tell anymore. “What?” he asked, a sort of amusement in his tone. _God, this all felt so weird._

  
  


The mercenary tilted his head. “You’re very beautiful, kid. Y’know that?”

  
  


Dick stared at him, a little stunned, before laughing. “The sweet-talking comes before the sex, you know? You’ve already scored a home run, you don’t need to lay it on that thick.” he chuckled and was surprised when Slade frowned at him.

  
  


“I’m not sweet-talking you, kid. Like you said, I don’t need to do that.” Slade brushed the hairs off Dick’s forehead, before standing up from where he’d be crouching at the side of the bed. “Besides the awful goddamn jokes and boy scout morals, I gotta say the most annoying thing about you is how badly you seem to need some actual feeling of self worth.”

  
  


Dick narrowed his eyes and sat up, feeling a bit ticked off now. _What gave Slade the right to make that assumption? He was fi- Well, no, maybe he wasn’t, but that didn’t mean Slade could just…_ He scowled. “I know I’m hot, Slade. I don’t need reminding of it. If you want something, then just say it, instead of trying to manipulate me.” he snapped and pulled up his knees, his slightly damp skin felt cold in the drafty room now.

  
  


“I said you’re beautiful, not hot. There is a difference.” The mercenary said, his voice was perfectly calm, but there was an absence there and a chilly edge, that made Dick cringe a little. “And I already got what I came for.” Just like that, he started to move towards the bedroom door, only pausing to pick up his discarded clothes.

  
  


Dick wasn’t really sure what had just happened. The whole conversation was buzzing in his mind, but he couldn’t pin it down. He felt very small in this room. _So small and alone and tired and weak and he- He couldn’t do it…_ His breathing began to hitch and sped up, his brain was a fuzzy mess, he couldn’t stop something welling up inside his gut. It all hurt, his head, his chest, this nausea in the pit of his stomach. _Fuck. Fuck- No, he couldn’t be alone, not now._ “Don’t-” he choked and Slade stilled, not turning, but clearly listening. It was almost better like that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be seen. To be watched. _Not now. Maybe not ever again._ All the audience he usually loved felt somehow tainted now. “Don’t go.” Tears that he’d barely managed to hold in for a very long time now were pushing at the corners of his eyes once more. He wasn’t even sure he wanted Slade to turn around again, he didn’t know what he wanted.

  
  


He buried his face in his arms, blocking off the view of the room and that turned back, but he heard it. The creaking of the floorboards at the foot of his bed. A hand was on his head, fingers combing through his hair, then touching his neck, moving to dip into his folded limbs and stroke his cheek. He leaned into the touch. Slade unfolded him, gently pulling apart the ball he’d curled into and moving his limbs to cling onto him instead. He let him hide his face in the crook of his neck and _shit…_ It felt so good to have someone to touch, to feel that thick, solid, immovable body pressed against his own, dwarfing him, shielding him from everything else.

  
  


Dick waited, waited for Slade to mock him, or try and trick him into some evil scheme, but it didn’t come. It felt so bizarre and he gulped, clearing his throat noisily. His voice sounded snotty and strange when he did speak. “This is dumb… You don’t actually have to stay, I’m fi-”

  
  


“Shut up, kid.” Slade cut him off and pulled him, in a way that had seemed impossible, even closer. His stiff limbs relaxed, allowing him to be moved under the thick blanket they had managed to shove off the bed earlier. His arms and legs curled around the thick torso and a kiss was pressed into his hair. “I did say I would help. And I want to.” The low rumble Dick heard through Slade’s rib cage was barely decipherable as actual words, but he smiled anyways.

  
  


“You’re not getting romantic on me, are you, Deathstroke? Because that seriously is not going to happen.” he laughed, weakly and was surprised to receive a soft chuckle in return.

  
  


“Oh yeah, we’re eloping tomorrow, didn’t I mention that, _Nightwing_?”

  
  


“A Las Vegas wedding, huh? Classy.”

  
  


“Only the best for you, darling.”

  
  


They lay there like that for maybe an hour. Dick really wasn’t sure about the time frame, if he was honest. It felt so surreal. Like he’d wake up and none of this would have happened. He smiled, his body losing all tension against the slow, ever present breathing below it. He started to drift out of consciousness and his eyes were drooping but then Slade spoke again.

  
  


“Richard.”

  
  


Dick looked up. Blearly he peered at the man, waiting for him to keep going. When he did, it was far more hesitant than he’d ever expected from him. “You don’t have to tell me why you’re so… well, depressed and traumatized would be the obvious ones, if I’m completely honest. I won’t ask you to trust me with that and I doubt you want to. But...” Slade ran his hand through his hair, obviously a little out of his comfort zone. “Is there anything I can do?”

  
  


There was a moment, very quickly passing, when Dick felt like he could maybe tell Slade. A warmth built in him like a fire and he felt words forming on his tongue. But then he reminded himself of who Slade was and what he did and that flame was snuffed. So he smiled, instead, a genuine, slightly sad smile and shook his head. “Tonight was more than enough, Slade.” he leaned up and for the hundredth time that night they kissed. “Thank you.”

  
  


“Fucking you isn’t exactly a hardship. Despite how annoying you can be.”

  
  


Dick laughed quietly and rested his head on Slade’s shoulder, letting the man settle his arms more tightly around him again. “Good night, asshole.” he grinned and it wasn’t long before he slipped away, his body slack and his breathing turning to a snore, his sleep untroubled by dreams.

  
  


Slade held him like that for maybe another hour, maybe two, just watching. Then, when the alarm clock on the bedside table read 5:30, he gently untangled their limbs and tucked Dick in. He put on his suit, careful to muffle the metallic clicks of the body armour. Then he bent down and kissed the vigilante’s forehead. “Goodnight, pretty bird.” he whispered and left. Dick would hate him when he read the news tomorrow, but for now he looked peaceful. For now they weren’t soldiers caught on the opposite sides of an endless war.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? I'm honestly quite pleased with it, although the overall tone isn't as humorous as I sometimes go for now.I do like writing Slade as a bastard with a soul, though, and while their relationship may not be healthy, it's at least fucking consensual in this fic.
> 
> Anyway, any feedback at all would be great and I'll be posting this on my tumblr: bluebelldestroyerofworlds, too (Shameless plug. You can't stop me.)
> 
> Hope this was at least sort of enjoyable!


End file.
